


Social Experiments

by Yukitsu



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hunter X Hunter Big Bang, Long Journeys, M/M, Roadtrip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:16:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7055959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yukitsu/pseuds/Yukitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of how Kuroro takes a reluctant Kurapika on a long and meandering joyride to recover his cache of eyes.</p><p>Or, </p><p>Kurapika’s dead set on the destination, but Kuroro’s really more about the journey.</p><p>Written for the HxH Big Bang (https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/hxhbb)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Social Experiments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lynffles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynffles/gifts).



Kuroro does a lot of things after Kurapika seals his nen. He can't risk confrontation with other nen-users, but he's never been anything but resourceful and finds other things to occupy himself with during his newfound and temporary freedom (vacation, he calls it).

So he reads books and travels to cities he never paid attention to before, and mostly leads a normal, quiet life, suffering communication with Hisoka aside. Keeping a low profile is necessary, but that's easy to accomplish. It's challenging when he finds things that he wants to pursue, but he staves off temptation by surfing the net with the Hunter card he bought off the market and anonymously joins auctions. From there, it's easy to ship the items off to some of his numerous bank accounts and vaults. Besides, there's enjoyment in throwing off stalkers from his trail. Kuroro Lucifer disappears off the map, replaced by this man or that woman.

Two months into his isolation and Kuroro stumbles into a small, private auction being held over the network. One of the items up for bid is a pair of Kuruta eyes, a grade J one. It's nothing particularly precious -- certainly not as beautiful as the other pairs he's seen, and if he were a prideful man, he could even say that he's seen majority of what was out in the market, having provided them himself -- but even so, he decides to buy this poor specimen on a whim. Kuroro uses his real name to participate in the auction and has to fly to another continent for all his effort, but the eyes are safe in one of his vaults and it's strangely satisfying.

After that is a simple matter of looking more closely at auction catalogues and museum articles and which private collection has what. He buys other things under his name to lose his pursuers, but he mostly sticks to the eyes. Kuroro also has to move more frequently, at a pace that couldn't be called leisurely by any stretch, but he reminds himself that hard travel is sometimes a necessary part of vacation.  

At any rate, at least he's not likely to be bored anymore.

\------

It takes a couple of years and some half a dozen pairs of eyes before the Kuruta manages to track him down. Kuroro has his nen back by now, and thus more means of financing his very expensive hobby ( _ collecting _ , he calls it). He's thrown off all of his hunters save one, but in the end, Kurapika is all that matters in this game.

"Bastard," Kurapika spits as he stalks forward. Kuroro is sitting on a park bench, cradling vending machine coffee in both hands with a length of nen-conjured chain around him. Being forced into zetsu again and they'd just met. The blond doesn't know how to greet people.

Three continents in three weeks – that's how quickly Kurapika managed to catch up to him once the blond figured his pattern out. This country is cold, all snow and frost, but the air between them is warm with one-sided hostility. The chain is searing.

"Hello, it's been a while," he greets with a small smile and takes a sip of his coffee. The lower half of the can disappears half a second later, decapitated right out of his hands by the chain Kurapika has brought forward. There is coffee on his trouser knees that ices over in a minute.

"Where are they?" the Kuruta hisses, and the chain tightens around his neck. It's not the worst experience he's had of these chains, so Kuroro keeps his silence.  

Time hasn't tempered Kurapika's anger any, but he is a calmer man now, and perhaps stronger if he judges the boy (or a man in the appearance of a boy) by how he had surprised Kuroro with the chain. His eyes are cold despite the fire in them, and Kuroro mulls on this contradiction even as Kurapika comes closer.

"If you come with me, I'll show you," he suggests, expecting a beating that surprisingly doesn't come. There's raw hate in those eyes, but Kurapika stays his fists to his side. Kuroro is impressed. "Let me take you to where they are."

"Why," the blond says with a snarl, "Would I do that? I can kill you where you sit."

"Because the eyes are more important than your vendetta. You proved this a long time ago." Kuroro cocks his head for effect. The metal around his neck tightens enough that he sees black for a moment.

Kuroro has never given Kurapika much credit for the mercy he showed him in the past to protect his friends, but the venom in his voice almost makes Kuroro think better of it. "I can still change my mind."

"You don't have anything to lose by coming with me, Kuruta."

Kuroro doesn't finish his pitch, because in the next instant Kurapika jerks the chain up and he flies through the air. He crashes into a tree at force; he feels it splinter and shatter from the impact as he struggles vainly to maintain his consciousness.

He doesn't manage to. But Kuroro knows he's won when he wakes up, because he's still alive despite his aching body.

\------

Their first week of travel goes like this: Kurapika keeps him within sight at all times as they travel by public transportation. They get a lot of stares, foreigners in this land as they are, but Kuroro is sure that no one will recognize him -- he's plain in so far as features go, and his tattoo is hidden well under bandages.

Travel is stressful for both of them, but Kuroro's discomfort only goes to the level of his injuries. Kurapika's disgust at actually having to walk, sit, and sleep in the same vicinity as him is palpable.

The tree had hurt, though, and all the weaknesses from being an injured man without his nen eventually knocks Kuroro out. He wakes up in a motel room with most of his more severe injuries healed. Kurapika is sitting on the floor by the door, watching him balefully, and he musters a smile. Just to be annoying.

"Thank you."

The growl he receives is as hostile as ever, and Kurapika doesn't heal him anymore after that, but things get better from there.

\------

Kuroro has taken care to extend their trip by all means possible, so by the second week, they are still in the snowy continent and nowhere near where he had hidden the eyes. Kurapika suspects, but he loathes talking to Kuroro so much he won't ask. Kuroro knows this, and takes advantage of it.

On the second week, Kuroro feels human again and travels with better stamina and speed. He starts making small talk, or attempts to start them. Kurapika rebuffs him every time and sometimes threatens him with bodily harm when he carries on extended conversations by himself. All in all, Kuroro is pretty relaxed about the whole deal. Kurapika is as tense as a violin string drawn taut.

The Kuruta was a tribe used to valleys and forests and all things warm and sunny, and he's willing to bet that Kurapika has never been in such cold environment in the raw. It doesn't surprise him that between the tension and the stress and the poor conditions in which they traveled, Kurapika takes his turn becoming ill.

Kuroro doesn't take care of him, but is considerate enough to arrange for their accommodations and remain quiet the entire time. This time, he’s the one who sits on the floor next to the door watching the blond in the midst of fever-induced delirium, and smiles when, two days later, Kurapika sits up with a start and frantically looks for him. There's no relief in Kurapika's eyes upon finding him there, but the confusion is even better.

\------

They leave the continent half a week later, to both their relief. Kuroro feels a little weather-worn and disappears one day to purchase clothing for the both of them. Kurapika lividly glares at him when he comes back two hours later, and Kuroro proceeds to ignore him.

He looks more or less like his usual by now, and this more than anything puts him in good cheer. Kurapika spends the rest of the day glowering at everything they come across, and doesn't wear what Kuroro has bought. Instead, he leaves with a warning for Kuroro not to go anywhere and comes back with a replacement for his clothes. The amusement on Kuroro's face annoys Kurapika, and the fact that he's annoyed pisses him off even more.

All in all, the third week is uneventful. Kurapika has ceased trying to stop him from talking, as long as Kuroro stays away from the ten thousand topics that Kurapika finds sensitive.

\------

Two days into the fourth week and Kuroro notices they are being followed. He turns to tell Kurapika, but the blond only gives him a look from the corner of his eye to indicate that he knows. Kuroro doesn’t care that they are, but he wonders who the target is between them – leader of the infamous Geneiryodan, or last living Kuruta?

The question of who their pursuers are is answered half a day later, just when they’ve crossed the outskirts of the city they had been traveling through. It’s a large group of normal grunts and a scattering of low-level nen users. There are a few strong ones somewhere, but Kuroro can’t identify them: he’s too busy running for cover when they start putting those machine guns to waste.

Kurapika doesn’t move from where he is, instead sweeping his chain around him in an impenetrable barrier of living metal. The older man takes a few moments to admire the blond's movements before he has to start moving out of the way of a nen-amplified bazooka shot.

Nearly kills himself, too, by almost accessing his nen.

"You can take care of the nen-users," he tells Kurapika as he grabs a stick off the ground and hefts it. "I don’t mind the grunts."

"They’re armed," Kurapika points out, but Kuroro has already moved to stay up close and personal with the men. Predictably, they don’t dare shoot with their enemy right in their midst, and Kuroro actually enjoys the exercise of rendering them unconscious or dead one by one. He keeps track of Kurapika’s fight with the nen-users, but he is mostly winning and doing well.

It’s easy for Kuroro himself, until something grabs his foot and painfully drags him down neck-deep into the earth. The situation is so bizarre he takes a moment to realize that someone is about to kick his head off like a football.

A length of chain grabs the man and tosses him off before he can continue that line of action.

"That’s great use for your head," Kurapika comments, managing to sound dry despite the slight shortness of breath. He stands over Kuroro at ready, surrounded by three more enemies.

"I always do get comments that it looks like an egg," he admits, inordinately merry for the situation. It’s the most Kurapika’s spoken to him in a few days.

There’s movement next to him, someone swimming under dirt. "In front of me," he suggests. Kurapika leaps up and slams his chain into the ground -- a body erupts from it, spraying him with a lot of dirt. The thing is still alive, amusingly.

The other nen-users are not so difficult to dispatch, though Kuroro watches the strongest of them run off on his own. That will not be the last they’ll see of him, but hopefully, Kuroro will be less immobile then.

"I should just leave you here," the blond tells him some moments later, when all is quiet. Kuroro patiently and silently waits, until Kurapika sighs and sends his chains digging under earth, to wrap around him. Being pulled up is a lot less pleasant than it looks, but he doesn’t really care about pain.

"My clothes," he mourns. Kurapika scoffs and keeps walking, prompting Kuroro to follow after him.

\------

They do get to discussing the issue of bounty hunters later on (after two days – Kurapika’s hatred for him can make him wait that long before finally losing patience and snapping. Kuroro is better at patience games), while they are walking through forest country and too busy fending off mosquitoes to harass each other.

"They could have been after you," Kuroro says, because like this, covered in mosquito marks and constantly spitting lost mosquitoes out, he does not look like a target.

"The bounty on your head is back," Kurapika points out, and gets irritated enough to use his chain to clear a space around himself. Kuroro is jealous, but doesn’t try his luck lest he be included in the list of casualty.

"I’ve been out of the spotlight for years. On the other hand, I hear you’ve been making a name for yourself by scaring the wits out of anyone unlucky enough to cross your path while angry. You should take more care." It's the mosquitoes driving him to distraction, he tells himself later on when that small ball on that thin chain whooshes past his head, too close to be an accident. It does take care of the bug at his ear, so he’s thankful.

"So hoarding my clan’s eyes is staying out of the spotlight for you?" The demand is there, but the implication is what Kuroro hears. If he answers yes, he gives Kurapika something to be angry about. For someone of his experience and age, Kurapika has a rather low tolerance for criminal activities.

Kurapika has been looking for an excuse to be incredibly angry for a while now. Kuroro doesn’t want to chance it in this kind of environment; hiking through forestry infested with bugs is unpleasant activity at best and probably unbearable when injured.

So he lies. "No, not really."

The look Kurapika gives him is strange, and he takes a moment to think about it and draws up a blank.

\------

The fact that the bounty hunters attack in the dead of night is a good indication as any that their target is Kurapika. No bounty hunter worth his salt will hunt a criminal, especially one of Kuroro’s caliber, in the dark.

It happens quickly, just as he falls into a light doze. First, there's a loud sound like a roar, and then the tree he is leaning against shakes. The sound is coming closer and it doesn’t take any discussion between him and his travel companion before they’re grabbing their packs and jumping, running, rolling off to the side. The large ball of – what is it? – rushes past them and leaves destruction in its wake.

Kuroro takes a moment to mourn the loss of his blanket that it’s been serving him well against most of the bugs. A few seconds after, though, and he’s silently climbing up a tree, leaving Kurapika to fend for himself on the ground below. Kuroro can do nothing for him there, and if the Kuruta’s the target, then it is also right that Kurapika should play bait.

The advantage of zetsu is that while he has no nen, his enemies also don’t realize he’s around. For all they know, he’s been killed off by the initial blast, so he follows the progress of a hunter as the man walks under him. Kuroro doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move, just stares at his prey unblinkingly. There are others, of course, smaller hunters and support units meant to flush Kurapika out. For the most part, the blond is keeping calm, if a little irritated, and doesn’t budge from where he’s standing.

"Why don’t all of you just leave me alone?" Kurapika starts chillingly, voice cold and eyes glowing a vivid scarlet, and Kuroro realizes that Kurapika has found something to catch the brunt of his anger.

Trees and other flora go down to the wrath of Kurapika’s chains, and Kuroro is thankful that his own is left spared, convincing him of the fact that Kurapika is in there, somewhere, still rational about things. A lot of the hunters are knocked down in the first wave, except for the strong one under his feet.

On second thought, his tree may have been left unscathed because of the hunter blocking Kurapika’s attacks with what appears to be a rapier of his own. Good to know.

The bounty hunter does a fine job of defending both him and Kuroro, though he does not know if this is done consciously or if Kuroro is just very lucky. Nevertheless, he nimbly climbs up to the higher branches, where he’s likely to be safer from Kurapika’s chains.

Kurapika seems to get impatient with his ineffectual attacks against the bounty hunter below Kuroro, and instead rushes in to engage the bounty hunter head on. Kuroro watches from his perch and makes sure to pay attention to the weaker nen-users converging in on the scene. One tries to rush Kurapika when the blond is busy blocking the rapier and ends up getting gutted by his own comrade.

Amateurs.

Kurapika can handle himself, so Kuroro decides to take care of the others. He jumps down right on top of one passing underneath him, breaking the fool’s neck with the impact, and surprises another with an uppercut that snaps his head back and knocks him out.

One of the chains whizzes past his head; Kuroro ducks down just in time to avoid getting beheaded, and leaps aside to avoid a gush of blood where the chain cracks open an unfortunate man’s chest.

The hunter with the rapier turns to him then, possibly confused to see him still alive, and attempts to kill him off. Nen-amplified speed even on a fool is a better match against Kuroro’s natural agility than he’s comfortable with, and the blade catches him at the side. It stings, but he ignores that to leap away, to put the trunk of a fallen tree between them. Perhaps it isn’t wise to let Kurapika out of both their sight, but if this man wants to battle him, Kuroro won’t protest. He’s willing to test his new limits.

He scuttles off to the end of the length of the tree with the intention of surprising his enemy from the side. Around them are sounds of men falling at the Kuruta’s attack, the blond undiscerning and ruthlessly cutting down any of the men he spies.

Something worthy of being a Ryodan, really, but Kuroro has to hold that thought when he comes face to face with the rapier wielder. They apparently had the same idea, and Kuroro has no choice but to engage the man quickly before he’s left behind a step.

Grappling and brawling like this is something he hasn’t done in a good while. It’s easier to deal with nen-users that way. This one is slippery like an eel, however, and nearly manages to gut him with the blade he sneaks in between them. Kuroro has no choice but to move back. The man follows and Kuroro zigzags through the destruction around them to find better vantage.

"Who are you?" the young man asks with a thick accent of something distinctly Southern.

"A big bounty," Kuroro replies as he ducks behind a tree trunk that explodes into splinters at the rapier’s attack. He runs up a tree – are they that far from the main fight? – to land behind his pursuer. He manages to lash out with a kick, but he knows it won't deal damage. Kuroro is running again, this time in Kurapika’s direction, and weaves through the debris of foliage.

Seconds later and he’s weaving through the onslaught of chains directed at him and the general bounty hunter populace in the area. He ducks the ball hurtling for his head, narrowly avoids the whiplash of metal against his face, and twists around midair to dodge another chain about to crack his skull open. The cuts and bruises, he ignores in favor of decreasing the distance between them as fast as possible. Frantic movements, but they work.

Kuroro lands a punch on Kurapika’s jaw when he’s close enough to manage it, grabs the blond by the collar of his shirt and throws him to the ground. Something hits him square in the gut and he staggers back, but he managed to do as intended and there is less rage in Kurapika’s eyes than there is sense.

"Welcome back," he manages to say as he spits out bile, and fends off a low-level nen-user when the man tries to ambush him. Kurapika doesn’t reply and there are chains whizzing about and around them again, but this time the destruction is systematic.

It doesn’t take too long to get rid of everyone from there. Kuroro even manages to ambush the rapier-user with a stick and judicious use of a dead man’s body as a shield.

\------

They stumble together into the hollow created by an uprooted tree, licking their wounds and not talking. Kuroro's more hurt between the both of them by far, and is not comfortable in such small space when he has to be considerate of Kurapika’s personal boundaries. He gives up the spine-breaking act of leaning away from the boy with his body positioned so, and simply leans on Kurapika’s back. The Kuruta stiffens and elbows him off, but Kuroro stays there just like that, closes his eyes, and pretends to sleep.

"Get off," Kurapika eventually growls, but is considerate enough not to keep struggling.

"In a bit," Kuroro mutters, wishing profusely to access his nen.

"How hurt are you?"

"Are you going to heal me?"

The answer is quick, like a gunshot. "No."

He keeps his eyes closed. "Then it doesn’t matter."

Kurapika stops protesting and tends to his own injuries with his chain. Kuroro listens to the blond’s activities for a few minutes, plucks out splinters from his hand, and then randomly scoops up cold mud from the hollow next to him and slathers it on a gash on his arm. It smells like earth, but the coolness is soothing and keeps the mosquitoes from landing on tender skin.

He does fall asleep like that, a light doze that remains mostly uninterrupted for an hour, until Kurapika decides to get up and start salvaging what he can of their camping supplies. The boy throws what’s left of their first aid at him, and he resignedly looks for a source of clean water to patch himself up.

Kurapika does heal him a bit after a few hours, weary from Kuroro's complaints about his state.

\------

The rest of the week passes by with no adventure, broken only by small arguments about the edibleness of this and that plant or the merits of hunting for small animals. There is little by way of nourishment left in their packs courtesy of Kurapika’s latest berserker stint, and Kuroro eventually manages to convince him to stop a while to hunt when he threatens to eat Kurapika. Or have Kurapika eat him, judging by their current power levels.

Surprisingly (or perhaps not, considering where Kurapika grew up before the Ryodan razed his home), Kurapika proves himself an adept hunter. Kuroro manages to catch a few squirrels and a rabbit through the afternoon, too clumsy in flora and not any better when dealing with fauna when it comes to hunting. Kurapika returns to their camp dragging a freshly slain deer behind him.

"Well," he manages to say, surprised if not baffled at the corpse.

"What the hell are those," Kurapika asks without asking, tone instead thick with judgment. Kuroro holds out the rabbit by its ears.

"Dinner."

Even more judgment, radiating in waves. Kuroro allows it to go over his head, and shakes his hand a little as an insistent offer.

Kurapika’s eyebrow twitches. "Do you even know how to skin those?"

"What?" All innocence and some parts ignorance.

"Can you do anything apart from kill, maim, and pillage?" the blond demands crossly, stomping forward to snatch the loot from Kuroro’s hand. "Stay away!" he snaps as an addition when Kuroro makes a move to help. "I am going to make smoked meat out of these, and then we are going to proceed forward with this stupid mosquito-infested route. And we are not going to stop until we are out of here, I don’t care if I have to drag your unconscious body behind me by the hair."

"That might save us trouble," he says agreeably, sitting down on a log and watching the Kuruta fuss and skin the small mammals with a knife. The deer goes in a more interesting and bloody way. Very educational. Kuroro also takes note never to leave Kurapika with a knife in his presence.

\------

The fifth week finds them out of the forest they had been trekking and about two days of walking through grassland before they reach a city proper. It's more like a particularly swollen town, really – and doesn't afford much camouflage for him and his companion, but they’re so weary from the forest that they immediately make for the nearest motel to rest.

Kuroro claims the bathroom first and Kurapika retaliates by claiming the bed furthest from the door. They have discovered, through the other hotels and inns they've stayed together, that they both like sleeping as far away from the door as possible. Big chances of attack, and easier ways of escaping through the window.

When Kurapika is done taking a bath, he finds fresh clothes on his designated bed area and Kuroro already half-asleep on the second bed.

"Where did you get those?" he demands suspiciously, wearing little else but a bathrobe wrapped tightly around his form. His clothes are in the bathroom, washed and drying by the vent.

"Stole them," Kuroro mutters, cracking open an eye. "There’s food, some more clothes, first aid kit, scissors."

Kurapika is giving him a strange look that Kuroro accurately translates as  _ When did you have _ time  _ to get all of this? _ before the blond does a double-take.

"Scissors?"

Kuroro sighs and pulls the blanket over his head. "Our hair’s getting long."

There’s a long pause there, and Kuroro almost thinks that Kurapika’s finally going to let his nen-deprived self sleep when he hears the blond mutter something and reach for the supplies. The sound of snipping lulls him to sleep, along with the thought that the Kuruta tends to put meaning into everything even when they’re just  _ random scissors _ .

\------

Despite Kurapika’s reservations about staying too long in one area, Kuroro manages to persuade him to stay a night longer. They’re both tired, he points out (himself overly so), and they need to restock on supplies. Kurapika grudgingly agrees (and points out that the forest was Kuroro's idea, which is fair) but looks for another motel to room at, just to throw pursuers off.

The city they wandered into is pretty boring as far as cities go. Some stores, a park, some religious establishments, food places. He eyes the jewelry store but finds nothing worth stealing. Kuroro politely inquires if there’s anything of interest in the place in terms of nen.

"No?" Kurapika gives him a look so incredulous Kuroro feels obliged to explain himself.

"Sometimes I stumble into nen-wrought cities. They look normal, but if you use Gyo, it’s like the entire city emits Ten. From there, it’s just a matter of figuring out where the nen is concentrated and breaking into it."

The blond’s look turns into one of disgust. Kuroro shrugs and starts walking into a bookstore instead of the grocery like they had planned.

"Wait, where are you going?" Despite the exasperation, Kurapika follows him in. Kuroro doesn't think Kurapika would mind taking a detour overly much, until he realizes that Kurapika thinks he's there to steal.

Well, he is, but it's difficult to be so clever about it with a blond bundle of an angry spitfire trailing behind him and watching every move with a black-eyed glare.

"I want to buy a few things. Watching you sleep at night got boring last month."

A sputter, and Kuroro doesn't flinch when Kurapika very nearly punches his teeth out, the fist just shy of touching his lips. The blond pulls his fist back stiffly.

"If you didn't delay our trip, I'd be off your hands faster," Kurapika says coldly, turning around sharply and exiting the store. Kuroro smiles behind him, shrugs at the dumbstruck cashier at the counter, and buys a book from money he filched out of a stranger's pocket on the way there.

\------

They take a few buses from that city to reach another, the view changing from plains to scrap yard marking the creeping pollution that is an industrialized city. Holgrehen is not as big as Yorkshin, but it's intimidating in its own way. Sooty, dark, and Kuroro finds himself more at home here than all the other places they've been in so far. There's only so much fresh air he can take.

They've changed clothes again to blend, and Kuroro is trying to coax Kurapika into trimming his hair at the back.

"Why would you let your enemy hold a pair of scissors to your neck?" Kurapika demands, affronted by the request and looking twice as boggled.

"We both know you're not going to kill me," Kuroro explains patiently, earning himself an elaborately angry frown. The Kuruta frowning is like an artwork. He grins and points at himself, using the face he often uses to cow old women into letting him sit with them in cafés. "I really need a haircut."

The frown is becoming increasingly severe. "Why don't you go to a salon and let them cut your hair?"

"Because I don't know that t _ hey're _ not out to kill me," he explains without missing a beat. Kurapika, on the other hand, is tried and tested a Good Guy who's not about to slit his throat from behind. A weakness on the kid's part, and Kuroro's started on the silent mission to show the boy exactly why he needs to get over his mission of vengeance: It's not going to get anywhere. Not if he's already gone through the process of having Kuroro vulnerable in his hands for five weeks and Kuroro is still alive.

A minute without a reply and Kuroro knows he's won this argument. He sits patiently on a chair with a towel around his shoulders and waits for Kurapika to start. A snip here, a pause before another snip there. The metal barely touches his skin.

The careful way the scissors are used on his hair is almost amusing, until Kuroro realizes that Kurapika's hand is trembling from effort. An inquisitive glance at the blond shows too many emotions on a young face, too old for his skin. Kurapika looks at him with red, red eyes before turning away and leaving their motel room, the scissors clattering on the floor in his wake.

"Interesting," he murmurs to himself, picking up the scissors and noting that Kurapika has dented the handle.

It is the beginning of the sixth week when they board a train to take them to another city.

\------

Kurapika's not talking to him again. Kuroro reviews his actions and decides that he must have moved too fast, pushed too hard at the wrong time. Still, he considers it a victory and lets Kurapika wallow in his silence for a few days, carrying most (if not all) the conversation between them by himself.

Kuroro is in the middle of a monologue on how security measures don’t actually do anything but give their owners false comfort. A man sure of his security is almost always likely to let his guard down, Kuroro tells Kurapika, so why bother with security measures if it leaves one more vulnerable? A man unsure of his security forces shouldn't bother to get one in the first place, useless things. He points, for example, at a mansion in the distance, set on top of a hill, and makes an estimate on the number of men, dogs, safes, locks, and security systems it would have. 

"Don't you… do anything else beside pillage, maim, and kill people?" Kurapika mutters tiredly after half an hour of this, head lolling to rest with a dull  _ thunk _ on the window pane next to him.

Kuroro looks at him with something akin to fondness, just short of laughing, and shrugs. "I read a lot of books. Travel. Research, if I feel like it." He has an apartment (or five) under various names full of nothing but books, after all.

"Books," the blond echoes, deadpan.

"What else would I read?"

"I don’t know. A guidebook on how to be a mass murderer?"

"That doesn’t exist," he replies patiently.

Kurapika closes his eyes in exasperation. "You could write one."

He laughs. "I’d never be done."

The eyes open red, but Kurapika resolutely doesn’t look at him. "Let’s not talk about this."

Kuroro closes his mouth, lips set in a smile, and sits back to leave Kurapika to his brooding. Half an hour later, in acknowledgment of his bad manners at discussing such things around Kurapika, he starts on a spiel about the culture of their next destination. Kurapika continues staring out the window, but Kuroro knows that he’s listening by the way his eyebrows twitch.

\------

The next place is a coastal town, a city full of sailors and everything that comes along with it. It’s dusk by the time they arrive, so they bunk in a large inn that used to be a dockyard, with half a dozen barges anchored just below their window. It’s a large trading area, previously a way port, and masts and sails litter the sky in the horizon. Kuroro makes it clear that they have to board one to head to the next continent and Kurapika viciously jabs at him for failing to tell him this beforehand, and points out that zeppelins would have been faster.

"That’s why we’re taking the ship," Kuroro answers, and Kurapika stalks up to their room angrily. It's amusing  that Kurapika can leave him out of his sight now, and he filches a businessman’s computer while the man isn’t looking. He takes it with him to their room and settles down on the balcony, the sea air pleasant on his skin no matter how muggy after three days in a train.

Kurapika doesn’t see what he’s doing until after the blond had taken a shower and starts looking for him. Kuroro shows him the screen before he gets lectured for stealing people’s things -- there’s another auction, and a pair of the eyes are up for bid. The price has gone up since Kuroro had started collecting them, and Kurapika’s slow but consistent progress through the years with his own conquests has contributed to their rising value.

"I’m buying it," he says casually, resuming what he was doing, and Kurapika snaps out something incoherent. "It’ll be for you," Kuroro adds and this seems to upset Kurapika more. He looks up at the blond, but the eyes aren’t red for once, and peers at Kurapika inquisitively. "You don’t want it?"

"Do you realize how wrong it is that the killer of my clan is the one  _ buying _ the eyes back for me?" Kurapika grouses, but Kuroro just shrugs and ignores all of Kurapika’s protests. He doubts if Kurapika has this sort of money, because while being a Hunter is lucrative, it isn’t as profitable by half as being a criminal. He finds nothing wrong with acquiring something for other people, victim or not, and doesn’t pursue the discussion.

The Hunter license is next to him and Kurapika picks it up with a frown. Kuroro answers him before Kurapika can even ask. "That cost me a hundred thousand zenny. It’s pretty useful."

"Did you kill the guy who owned this?"

"No. If I did, then it would have cost me nothing."

Kurapika looks at him with an expression that Kuroro doesn’t catch (probably unhappy, he thinks), but gives it back and says no more. He leaves Kuroro alone, and Kuroro finishes the purchase several hours later after a close bidding match. The item had been bought in Kurapika’s name, and Kuroro selects a city for a new vault account to be opened for it.

\------

"We’re both Hunters," Kuroro is saying smoothly to the captain of the merchant ship, showing off his card with an engaging smile. The captain examines the card, looks at Kurapika’s, and derisively lets them aboard.

"We could have just chosen a different ship," Kurapika mutters, embarrassed at the scene Kuroro caused to get the captain to come out. Three sailors are sulking at them from the gangway, still soaking from the dunking Kuroro had given them into the dirty port waters; they hadn’t listened to him when he said he wanted to see the captain, he explained. How rude.

"This is the only one that leaves today, and since it’s non-passenger, it helps us throw our pursuers off." Kuroro knows that Kurapika already knows the reason for his selection, but the kid is probably only protesting for the sake of contradicting what he says. Kuroro can’t blame him, given the eccentric moves he’s pulled on this trip, and being stuck in a very cramped and enclosed ship isn’t the most comfortable means of travel he’s chosen so far. Still better than the forest, at least.

Thankfully, the captain doesn’t repay their courtesy by holing them up in the hold, and they not only get a cabin to themselves but the run of the deck whenever they like. The downside is that the cabin barely manages to fit a bed, let alone have space for two people, and Kuroro and Kurapika end up eyeing the space and each other warily upon seeing the setup.

"I’ll sleep with the other crew members," Kuroro eventually offers, smiling gallantly. Kurapika’s frown grows. "I promise to leave their things alone if that makes you feel better about unleashing my presence into the general populace," he adds.

The blond doesn’t say anything for a moment, but Kuroro can see his brain working, that innate desire for privacy winning Kurapika’s internal war with his conscience. "… Don’t throw any of them into the water," he finally concedes, and the smile Kuroro gives him could have charmed a small country.

\------

The sixth week starts out with them at sea, getting used to the ship’s movements and schedules and habits. It reminds Kuroro a little of home, a place so isolated from the outside world and so completely monotonous despite being so densely populated. He wonders if Kurapika thinks the same way, but remembers that the Kuruta lived in a forest and privacy in plenty.

Kuroro takes to wandering the ship in plainer clothing because the sea air ruins anything else. He also takes to joining the crew members in their activities, especially up in the shrouds. A natural affinity for activity and a lifetime of surviving death has made him particularly suited to swarming up and down the ratlines as fast as any able seaman, and his easygoing nature and ability to act like he's always eager to please makes him easily popular with the crew, even the ones he threw into the water days before. They challenge him frequently to arm wrestling, which he always wins given that they know of him as a Hunter, but he defers to their expertise when it comes to fishing and harpooning. Sailors generally tend to be a wholesome, good-natured lot and Kuroro completely wins them over by helping them catch a shark on the third day and distributing the vertebrae and teeth for good luck.

Kurapika keeps to himself in his cabin or a corner of the deck, near the quarterdeck but not close enough to get in the way of anyone. The captain lends him some books, most of them instructional texts about navigation and hydrographs, and that occupies his time well enough. Kuroro bothers him sometimes in the afternoon after larking around the tops, and invites him to see the view. Kurapika rejects his offer always, but Kuroro knows he goes up when no one is looking.

As for the captain, well. Kuroro works his charm on him to make a very small, very slight detour to drop them off on a different port from the ship’s original destination. It takes a few days of badgering and coaxing and bribery, but eventually the captain snaps out a yes, just get out of my hair,  _ please.  _ Kuroro triumphantly delivers his news to Kurapika, who rolls his eyes behind his book but at least does not lecture him.

It’s not a particularly long trip, but being a cargo ship does make their going slower. Kuroro is good at keeping up appearances, which he does, but for the most part he takes to napping unobtrusively at random parts of the ship to wile away the time. He develops a healthy, rugged tan while at sea and one of the sailors puts a tattoo on his arm while they’re at it, which Kurapika looks at with a mixture of resentment and curiosity when he shows it off. It’s in the shape of a small and simple web, nothing special to it, except it is right next to the spider tattoo with his Ryodan number, nestled between two legs. The tattoo doesn’t mean anything, just Kuroro letting the men have fun showing off their crafts, and he says as much. Kurapika only grows quieter for the rest of the trip, although Kuroro later overhears (eavesdrops on) him talking with the captain about the pest that is his travel companion. The captain commiserates and offers Kurapika more books, and Kuroro distinctly gets the impression that this is not the first time they’ve talked about him.

\------

Kuroro emerges from the ship looking more like a sailor than a criminal, although he freely admits that the line between the two blurs quite regularly. That’s probably how he managed to get along with them so well, Kurapika comments, and Kuroro laughs.

"Being good with people isn’t a matter of liking the same things," he says beatifically, hefting his pack over a shoulder and looking around the mostly desolate port. It’s not a big place, constantly forgotten and left to the rule of smugglers and pirates. The pervading color is the orange of rust, which does not look bad in the sunset. Everything is shabby and dilapidated and undeniably familiar, like coming home. Kurapika looks less than pleased about being here but keeps his opinions to himself, much to Kuroro’s surprise.

"We won’t be safe here for very long once these guys find out about the bounty, but we have a few days before they figure it out," Kuroro says as they walk up a beaten road leading farther into town. There’s something reckless about walking straight into the lair of cutthroats when they have money hanging over their heads, but Kuroro is an undeniable expert at covering his trail.

The pair spends the night making their way around the scraggly cliff side leading away from the port, opting to travel now while it is cool rather than when it becomes swelteringly hot. The port opens abruptly into the face of a mountain, the terrain rising high up beyond the little town and its small bay. It makes the place easily defensible, at least from normal attack. The darkness does not bother either of them and they make good time.

Kuroro’s initial plan had been to cut through the mountain to reach the country behind it, but he changes his mind at the thought of more mosquitoes. Around it's going to be, sticking closer to the beach than he ordinarily would like.

They lodge in the morning at another shabby inn, this with a noisy pub filled with fishers and miners on the first floor. It’s strange to sleep without the constant rocking of a ship underneath them and right when the sun is rising, but Kuroro manages in snatches. Kurapika is awake most of the time that Kuroro rouses, but he pays the boy no attention. With nen, Kurapika can stay up for days on end if he likes, and even like this so could Kuroro. He prefers to save his energy, that’s all.

\------

The seventh week begins with another attack. They reach Palauwnia two days after landing in the pirate cove, and go about refurbishing their supplies and buying new clothing. Kuroro is shopping in the crowded market alone when the bounty hunters close in on him, surprising him with their gall at doing so in broad daylight and in the middle of a crowd. But this place is almost as cutthroat as Ryuusegai, and this sort of behavior is not entirely unexpected. 

Kuroro leaps behind a crate of fruits to avoid the first wave of gunfire, and grabs the merchant whom he had been haggling with to use as a human shield when he suspects nen-infused bullets. Nothing as large or as devastating as Franklin’s, thankfully, but plausibly the type that cannot be stopped by some papayas and wooden planks. The merchant gurgles and convulses as bullets bite into his back, vomits blood onto Kuroro’s shoulder, and dies in his arms.

He heaves the body and runs behind the panicking, screaming crowd, keeping low to the ground and swiftly making his way to the edge of the market. An alleyway will be a disadvantage for him, leaving him with few options for anything to use as a shield, but if Kuroro can get to the rooftops he can get to Kurapika, and he counts on it.

Surprisingly, Kurapika is on the road two blocks away. Kuroro doesn’t stop running, but he hears Kurapika skid to a stop behind him and sees the blond running at his periphery a moment later.

"I heard a commotion," the blond says by way of a demand.

"Bounty hunters," he mutters, noting how good Kurapika’s hearing must be. Their inn is all the way across the town. "At least four nen users, and not amateurs. They’re not as strong as you or I individually, but your conditions and my seal will make it a little difficult to get one over them. I suggest we run like hell before they catch up."

"Are they after you or me?"

"Does it matter? It’s one and the same by now." And it is true, too. They've been working together against their pursuers for enough time now that both their faces must be listed for reference. It is likely that they don’t quite know who Kuroro is, but they would kill him to get to Kurapika’s head and that makes them as good as Kuroro’s enemies.

"Let’s split up," Kurapika suggests, and it’s a good plan, usually. Kuroro would normally go with it because even the Ryodan prefers to work in smaller groups, and it would give them a chance to divide and conquer.

"Not with my nen like this we aren’t," he retorts grimly, and the rest of his answer is drowned out by the explosion that engulfs the entire block they are running on.

Explosion may be describing it too generously, since it's all dust and displaced air, and no fire and ruins. Still, the sound is deafening and stops Kuroro in his tracks. Kurapika fares better beside him and Kuroro realizes, as he looks up from behind his arms he’d thrown up to shield his face, that it’s not an explosion so much as a sonic blast bolstered by a healthy amount of nen.

"Run," he says, but he can’t hear himself. His ears are ringing and there's a painful ache behind his eyes that he ignores. Kuroro is vaguely aware of Kurapika grabbing him by the upper arm to steer him in a direction, but for the most part he jumps the roofs and follows after the blond on pure instinct.

And then the ringing stops abruptly and he can hear again, everything roaring to life around him, frightened screams and gunshot sounds clear to their right.

"That’s two abilities," he says. "Depending on what the other two are capable of, we’ll know if they mean to take us alive or dead." And from there, an idea of what their enemy is after. Everything is a clue that hints at one thing or another and it is just a matter of recognizing what he is seeing; he couldn’t have heard this more clearly than if it had yelled at his ear.

It’s too bad he doesn’t have his nen at the moment. Four mid-level nen abilities ripe for the steal, and Kuroro is forced to let them go.

The roof under him shudders as a man lands on it. Ripped muscles straining against a wife beater, bare feet, hands the size of a small child – clearly an enhancer if the mild similarities with Ubogin are to be believed. Kuroro does not want to assume, however, and quickly scrambles away from the man and leaves him for Kurapika to handle.

Another sonic shriek rebounds through the street – Kuroro sees the dust rise moments before the sound hits him head on, giving him time to clap his hands over his ears and brace himself on his knees. It doesn’t hurt as much as the first and Kuroro gets back to moving soon after that. They have a good chance of escape, if Kurapika is so inclined.

The shrieker is on the ground at the end of the street, a small girl of about ten with a mouth bigger than Kuroro has ever seen on a human being. A tall, thin man with what appears to be a bat stands next to her, staring up at Kuroro with a surprised look on his face. Kuroro can’t help it – he waves. The man raises his bat, and balls of what Kuroro assumes to be nen forms in front of him. Kuroro can’t see them very well with his nen locked out like this, but the enemy’s intention is clear enough with the way he hits them in Kuroro’s direction. He squirrels out of the way to another roof, keeping low to make himself a smaller target.

So their gunner is a batter instead. How interesting. Kuroro registers that Kurapika has engaged the enhancer into battle and that they’re wrecking the roofs behind him, but otherwise keeps his attention elsewhere.

It is the fourth opponent that is truly interesting, as far as Kuroro is concerned. A thin black streak snakes up the roof to where he is and would have decapitated him if his instincts are not what they are. As it is, he's forced to step off his perch and land on the ground to avoid the thrashing ripping his foothold apart.

"My, you’re a handsome one," a woman croons at him, making Kuroro’s eyebrows rise.

"That’s not something I’m told often in the middle of a fight," he admits. Kuroro gets to his feet and brushes the dirt and debris off his shirt, looking his particular opponent over. A tall, curvaceous woman, not quite as large-chested as Paku had been but almost completely naked apart from a bikini. She's covered in tattoos from her bald head to her bare feet, every patch of skin a myriad of color and craftsmanship that Kuroro can admire. An unmarked patch on her shoulder catches his attention, and the black line running from it to the roof – a moment later, the black streak lands on the patch, settling down into the picture of a tree branch. A manipulator or change type, he reckons. Not powerful enough to manage the release part quite so effectively, but the thin connection is enough to let her control her constructs from a short distance. Now it's only a matter of finding out if she controls ink or changes her nen following the appearance of the marks on her body.

"I take it you’re the Kuruta?" she asks sweetly, the tattoo of flowers on her cheekbone rustling with the wind. Kuroro almost lights up at this easy information, and allows a smile to escape his lips.

"Not at all. I’m just traveling with him."

She laughs, and it’s a pleasant enough sound. "Is that so? You don’t look like you know what you’re getting into, boy. If you leave now, I’ll let you go."

Generous, Kuroro notes. No bounty on him, then, and no one has any idea of who Kurapika is with. It’s about time they figured it out.

"That’s good of you." Another explosion on the roof; the child is there, the batter protectively staying at her side. They have collectively decided to ignore Kuroro because they can’t feel nen off him. Kuroro thinks they might die for that, just because. He sees a bundle of blue that is definitely Kurapika getting thrown off to ground level, on the other side of the building, but does not move. The tattooed woman continues to watch him.

"If you let me go," Kuroro continues out loud, shrugging his shoulders, "I’ll help you."

And then he feels it, the blade sliding out of his heart and disappearing, the invisible barrier between him and his nen fading just as abruptly as it had been slammed up. Kuroro smiles at the woman, who frowns at him in confusion, and he jumps out of the way of the scythe that comes lancing out of her hip. It’s good to have  _ nen _ again.

The Skill Hunter appears in his right hand a moment later, the pages flipping on their own until he gets to the right one. In another instant the woman disappears into thin air and reappears at the end of the street. By then, Kuroro is up on the roof, running over to the other side and landing heavily on the enhancer harassing Kurapika on the street. This one isn’t particularly strong, at least not as strong as Ubo, but the other two bounty hunters are kiting Kurapika effectively and Kuroro notices Kurapika’s reluctance to strike the girl.

The book disappears as Kuroro follows up his landing and slams the enhancer into a wall, driving him through one, two, three walls in total. He would congratulate himself if not for the fact that the walls are practically made of mud.

"What the hell--!" The batter looks surprised, uncertainly looking from Kuroro to Kurapika. Kurapika goes after him before he can decide on what to do, and Kuroro only raises his eyebrows at the child. She cowers and cringes – Kuroro is in front of her with his hand left around her neck before she can scream.

A line of ink – a snake, Kuroro can see more clearly now – winds itself around Kuroro’s arm, settling between his skin like a length of broken glass and sandpaper. "Let her go!"

The enhancer stomps his way back to the fight. Kuroro ignores him because even with  _ ten _ , getting his arm sliced to ribbons is hardly a proper end to a fairly easy fight. From his periphery, he sees Kurapika throw the unconscious batter at his comrade and go after the enhancer instead. The blond is a ball of concentrated effort, and Kuroro knows that he could have finished all four of these hunters on his own. Did Kurapika give Kuroro his nen back for his own safety, then? That isn’t unlikely, but if it is true, then Kuroro has something more interesting to think about.

"Hello there," he says conversationally, raising his free hand. The Skill Hunter returns, a familiar, welcome weight. "This is your daughter, isn’t she? I can see the resemblance. And that other one is your brother? I didn’t know bounty hunting is a family business now." The woman snarls at him and he can see her tattoos broiling together in agitation.

"Let her go," the woman repeats tightly and Kuroro feels the ink bite at his wrist, enough to draw blood. He tightens his grip at the child’s neck in warning, the kid making choked, frightened noises, and the pressure on his arm eases.

Kuroro smiles, all tea and afternoon conversations in the sun. "Will you tell me something about your  _ hatsu _ ? Are you a manipulator or is the ink really your nen?"

She frowns at the question, but Kuroro has the upper hand, and she answers. He can see her think about lying, but in the end she chooses honesty. "Manipulator."

Ah, he thinks, pleased at the revelation. Kuroro is strong in Manipulation. How fortunate. "This is what we’ll do. You’re going to touch this book and I’ll let the both of you go. I’m sure my companion is generous enough to agree to our terms, especially considering that you don’t have much of a choice on the matter. You and I both know that I can snap the neck of this kid faster than you can severe my hand from my arm."

She hesitates, and would have hesitated longer if Kurapika doesn’t step out of the wreckage of the house alone, the street now eerily silent after all the crashes and sounds of fighting from before. He sees her eye Kurapika and flinch. Did the blond make beautiful eyes at her? Kuroro wishes he can see right now.

"Fine. But you let us go after, do you hear me? Is that a deal?"

"I never break promises," he says deliberately. It doesn’t matter that Kurapika can see the process, because Kuroro can never steal Kurapika’s ability anyway, doesn’t have the requisite conditions to successfully manifest the chains to the utmost of their ability. This one, though… this one is a very good skill.

She touches her palm to the handprint on the Skill Hunter and the transfer is done. The thin strand of ink connecting the snake on him to her arm falls and disintegrates now that the nen giving it sentience has been taken away. He can tell by the panic on her expression that she’s just realized what happened.

"Thanks," Kuroro grins and removes his hand from the child. She makes an attempt to scream, and Kuroro hits her at the side of the head enough to knock her out.

Surprisingly, it is Kurapika who breaks the silence next, between the woman’s ragged panting and the three others out cold around them. "Who sent you?"

The woman is busy cradling her child to herself, but answers Kurapika hastily when the blond takes a step closer to them. "The ten dons, the mafia dons. The new ones, I mean. They heard there was a Kuruta on the loose, and—well, you know how they are, right? We’re just hired hands."

"Who uses their own children for something like this?" Kurapika spits, and Kuroro notes the anger reverberating through the Kuruta’s frame. Ah, righteous anger. Kuroro was starting to get worried that the sea had sucked it out of Kurapika.

"You don’t understand anything," the woman answers bitterly. The blond gives them a look of disgust rivaled only by the looks he gives Kuroro before spinning on his heel and stalking away. Kuroro doesn’t follow and squats down next to his recent victim.

"I have a tattoo, too," Kuroro says, looking down at her benevolently. He rolls up his sleeve, the one without the new snake tattoo on it, and her eyes widen at the spider and its accompanying number.

"You!" she stutters, trembling and hastily backing away from him, shielding the kid from him with her body. Fascinating. She’s lost her nen and there’s nothing she can do against him, but she tries. It’s not a surprise that a tattoo aficionado would recognize the Ryodan spider and Kuroro counted on it.

"You recognize me, then." He lifts a finger to his lips as if to shush her. "I expect you’ll make a report about this. You’re free to tell the dons that if they don’t back off, they may just join their predecessors. That’s a promise."

Kuroro gets back to his feet and follows after Kurapika, feeling fresher than he has for the past two months. Surprisingly, Kurapika doesn’t return the seal on him when he catches up to the blond in their hotel. Unsurprisingly, however, Kurapika locks himself up in the bathroom.

\------

He's playing with his new stolen ability when Kurapika finally makes his way out of the bath, the boy smelling distinctly of soap. Kuroro looks over his shoulder – bare, since he’s taken off his shirt to see the ink walk across his skin more clearly – and smiles.

"She was a manipulator, and her nen can turn any writing on her skin into more or less permanent tattoos," he offers as a start to a conversation, because Kurapika looks disturbed and frankly, like shit. "As long as I maintain contact with the ink, I can extend it from myself to do things for me like attack, or switch channels on TV."

The blond stares at him flatly for a moment, eyes watching the spider skitter across Kuroro’s back as it rolls the web in front of it like a ball. "She won’t die?"

Trust Kurapika to be concerned for a bounty hunter’s welfare. "Not from this, no, but she should try to keep a low profile if she has a lot of enemies."

Kuroro has broken down the snake tattoo into the skeleton of a dragon, with skeleton wings. It moves slowly across his back as Kuroro practices his control on the pictures, focusing more on movement than detail like the woman had done. There’s a pen on the bed that he had used to scribble on his skin, next to the bandage that he'd wrapped around the shallow lacerations on his skin from their earlier encounter.

Kurapika is still giving him an odd look, like he wants to walk over and put a knife to Kuroro’s back. Is it from feeling and seeing him use nen? The dragon splits into two symmetrical halves that settle around his shoulderblades. Kuroro snaps the Skill Hunter shut then, the spider freezing abruptly along his hip and the web rolling slowly to a stop just before it hits his navel.

"We’ll leave in the morning," he says. Kurapika’s eyes are narrowed and Kuroro realizes the target of the Kuruta’s ire, so he gets up from his seat on the bed and pulls his shirt back on to cover his misplaced spider tattoo. One of the things that Kurapika doesn’t like, then. But Kuroro continues talking normally, like the two of them like this, with both of their nen and this one-sided animosity in the same room together, is commonplace and how things should be. He’s sure that Kurapika’s noticed the changed between them just as Kuroro’s worked hard to steer their interactions in that direction.

Them, like this, without one attempting to kill the other.

"You didn’t run," Kurapika finally says, and there’s a dull look that steals into his eyes that makes Kuroro wonder how it feels like to dedicate one’s life into the pursuit of an ultimate goal. It’s inconceivable to him, who built his life around doing what he wants.

In a way, this is an extraordinary kind of theft, disassembling Kurapika’s dedication to destroy Kuroro and his group from right under his feet.

Except, Kuroro reflects as he cants his head and looks thoughtfully at Kurapika, Kurapika had already done that to himself long ago, that night he gave up Kuroro to save two kids. Kuroro has only driven the point home and helped it along with his own lack of hostility.

"No," he agrees. "I didn’t. And I’ve noticed that you haven’t locked my nen up again."

"It’s pointless," Kurapika admits with an aged weariness to his entire body that almost makes Kuroro feel sorry for him.

"Besides," Kuroro says mildly, picking up a spare set of clothes as he makes his way to the bathroom, "I bet I was tiring you out with my whining about injuries. I’ll be less irritating this way."

He doesn’t look at Kurapika, but he can feel the blond’s eyes on him, that weird expression crossing his face. Random gestures of unexpected kindness, like Kurapika can’t quite believe Kuroro is capable of it and any other perfectly humane and common virtues.

"You’ll find a way to irritate me anyway," is the eventual brusque answer, and Kurapika is asleep in his bed when Kuroro finishes showering and emerges half an hour later. Kuroro considers the mop of blond hair peeking out of Kurapika's blanket, and pools his nen into his eyes to study the structure of Kurapika's nen, alive even in sleep. It's not so strong as to garner the wrong attention from nen-users passing by, but he can feel Kurapika's unconscious alertness at its sharpness.

He thinks about how Kurapika has led his life until now, and thinks that it's not much different from how he's also orbited on the outskirts of society his entire life.

They have a lot in common, and yet he's never met anyone so different.

\------

They leave Palauwnia on a small fishing boat. Kuroro’s paid to be taken further north, so they can get to the main landmass proper of the continent faster. This hadn’t been his plan, but after the recent attack he doesn’t want to risk meandering in the same area for too long. He sits on top of the tiny, roofed cabin at the center of the boat, well out of the way of the sailors and Kurapika who is seated at the bow. Brooding, Kuroro guesses, because Kurapika is always brooding.

The trip doesn’t take very long – three hours by Kuroro’s estimate, though he stops keeping track in favor of napping. The sun moves from its reasonable position behind the sails to the more annoying position of right over his head, and he takes to shading his face with a straw hat he had bought in Palauwnia on a whim. He’s contemplating moving himself entirely to escape the heat when Kurapika sits next to him, shading him from all that brightness.

Kuroro lifts the hat a little to look up at Kurapika, expectantly.

Kurapika doesn't look at him, eyes resolutely looking forward. His hands are clenched next to Kuroro's shoulder. "I want to be done with this trip. It's been almost two months, Lucifer."

"Hm," Kuroro replies.

"Stop meandering," Kurapika says flatly. "You must have achieved your objective by now."

Has he? Kuroro turns his head back into his hat, "Have I?"

"I have no intention of killing you anymore. That should be enough."

"I'm not the type to settle," Kuroro teases, but amends, before Kurapika can lift his fist to apply it to Kuroro's face, "But I understand. Within the week is the fastest I can manage, though. We  _ do _ have bounty hunters after us."

"Fine." Kurapika gets up to his feet in a graceful motion, swaying slightly to the rocking of the boat. "Within the week."

"Kurapika," he calls out before the blond can leave, peering out from behind his hat. Kurapika looks down at him, meeting his eyes for the first time that day. Kuroro smiles and shakes his head, his words escaping him.

Interesting, that Kurapika had read into the matter of it so accurately. Kuroro doesn't think he had been very transparent in the last weeks, that his interest had changed a little, gradually and unconsciously, into one of other interests. It's more likely that Kurapika has just gotten better at understanding him, which is a pleasant thought to contemplate, if slightly worrisome.

\------

Kuroro makes good on his word. They take a car the moment they arrive in port and make good time through the continent. It would have been faster by zeppelin, but Kuroro is wary of being tracked so easily; Kurapika doesn't comment on his choice of transportation and only sits in the passenger seat in silence.

He would turn it into a challenge to see who can stay quiet longer between them, but Kuroro knows that Kurapika will win that contest without even trying. Driving through the endless stretch of road gets boring after the first half a day, and Kuroro keeps up light but steady chatter after that. He talks of many things, all casual information he had amassed in his years of reading, study, and travel. He talks of cities, people, cultures, and treasure, of some people he had met in the past, and the places he's been. Sometimes, he turns on the radio, but reception becomes terrible after the second day as they enter the desert that he gives up on it. They stop infrequently, only to restock on supplies and fuel before they take on the stretch of dry valley, and to catch a bit of sleep here and there.

"If we hadn't taken the car, were you going to make us walk through here?" Kurapika asks him on the morning of the third day, head lolling to rest on the window and looking completely bored out of his mind.

Kuroro glances at him, trying to gauge Kurapika's mood. It had taken a turn for the melancholic lately, but he had thought it an improvement from his cold anger. "No, I would have circled around the desert by sea and cut to the place from a different direction. It would have been just a couple of days walk through the desert at most, then. The sea voyage alone would have taken two weeks if we had taken another freighter, though."

Kurapika sighs, sounding resigned. "If we had taken the zeppelin, were you going to just jump out when we passed over Ryuusegai?"

In retrospect, Kuroro shouldn't be surprised that Kurapika knows where Ryuusegai is. It isn't information that's completely withheld from the public, after all -- it's just one of the world's dirty secrets, available for those with enough curiosity and a computer to find out. Still, he glances at Kurapika curiously before turning his eyes back to the road.

"I would have," he finally confesses, sounding more sheepish than he should. "The sea route would have been more scenic."

Kurapika sighs again. Kuroro gets the feeling that Kurapika might have wanted to say something scathing and just resisted the urge. It may have even been well-deserved, he thinks ruefully. "Will your group be there? I don't think they'll let you stop them from gutting me the moment they see us."

What does he know of their activities, given the new schedule? His original timeline had accounted for what he knew they were doing then, although it was not in their rules to inform each other of their location at any given time, and many of his members were easily taken by whim and fancy, apt to changing plans all the time. Besides, even within the group they couldn't trust each other entirely -- Hisoka was testament to that.

His silence must have stretched for too long, because Kurapika's frown has become intensely unhappy when Kuroro looks at him next.

"I don't think they will be, but I wouldn't discount it," he says, completely honest for once. "But in any case, the eyes aren't exactly in the thick of the city. You'll be fine."

Kurapika gives him a long look, but eventually just turns away again. "At least we won't have to worry about bounty hunters in there."

"No," Kuroro agrees. "We don't take well to anything getting stolen from us, even guests. Unless they persuade you to come with them of your own free will, the locals will take it upon themselves to correct the presumption."

"Do you consider yourself to be a citizen of that place?"

Kuroro pauses, surprised at the question. It seems to have been asked entirely in curiosity, which is so unexpected he almost lies about the answer.

"We don't have an official status when it comes to territory and government, being considered only a dumpsite that so happens to have people surviving off it, so citizenship isn't exactly a thing we have," he finally answers, going with something neutral. "If people feel they belong there, then they're local."

"And do you feel that you belong there?" Kurapika presses, looking at him intently now.

He keeps his eyes on the vague outline of the road ahead of him, mulls the answer over. "Yes," he finally answers. "It's not really something that we think about, but yes. I suppose I do."

The blond seems satisfied with his answer, judging by the lack of follow up questions. He settles back in his seat and resumes staring out the window at the monotonous scenery. He looks like he's chewing on something, Kuroro thinks, and feels a small sense of discomfort at the idea that it might be his answer that Kurapika is thinking of. Even in the city the Ryodan had been far from normal, and Kurapika must know that from any moderate research.

\------

They spot Ryuusegai in the distance two days after that, a small, smoking mound far away, and immediately veer off to the east to give it a wide berth.

"I did say it wasn't in the thick of the city," he reminds Kurapika when the latter looks like he's about to question the change in direction.

"It's not in the city at  _ all _ ," is the muttered retort. Kuroro laughs and gestures at the sight of his homeland to their side.

"Everything you can see from there is part of it. No one else will claim it."

Although calling it a city is very generous, considering that it is a few short proper buildings at most, surrounded by numerous, sprawling hills of garbage and countless shanty huts, tents, and other similar structures where they could be built. Even from this distance they can see the faint smog from constant burning rising from the dumps, and the air is thick with pollution.

"Why didn't you hide it in there?" Although by Kurapika's doubtful tone, the blond probably knows the answer already.

"It's not easy to keep track of places when the city is literally built out of garbage. Besides, the pollution and toxicity of the city would worry me. Those canisters aren't made very durably."

They sit in silence for a while, bouncing in their seats frequently at the increasingly rougher terrain. The heat from outside is palpable inside the car, and Kuroro can faintly smell refuse filtering in through the airconditioning.

Kurapika surprises him with a question next, entirely unprompted. "Is it true, what the reports say about the citizens of Ryuusegai living in hazmat suits?"

From the corner of his eye, Kuroro can see that Kurapika is resolutely not looking at him, either. "Yes, but only those who don't have nen strong enough to take it. Children who are thrown in the city normally survive only if they have potential."

He hesitates. "Were you..." And stops again.

"I was born here," Kuroro says with a smile, the truth easy for its worthlessness. "Then I was taken away for use elsewhere, and then I came back."

There's a wrinkle between Kurapika's eyes, as if he wants to protest the term and its association with people. But even Kurapika knows the reality of the world, and Kuroro sees him bite his tongue. "Use?"

"Some powerful families like to take in residents of Ryuusegai to raise as bodyguards and for other services," he explains, peering over the wheel intently to look for his land mark. "For example, a good number of the Zoldyck butlers are from here, as is their matriarch. Several of the mafia dons have one or two in their employ, because it's useful to own people that aren't listed in any registry in the world. We have to stop here and walk the rest of the way."

The blond looks thrown off, and moves slowly out of the car with an expression of both confusion and thoughtfulness. Kuroro patiently waits for him and tosses him a water bottle, while drinking from the other. The rock he had marked before is next to them, the small scuff he had left on its side faintly visible underneath the dust.  "It's not half a day away, but the car can't really go further than this." He pauses, catches the blond's eye. "You don't need to pity the people in Ryuusegai, Kurapika. They don't need it."

"I don't," Kurapika retorts darkly, looking away again. "I'm not that naive."

"But you're kind," Kuroro points out, and starts walking further east toward a cluster of hills and rocks some distance away. "It's a rarity in the circles you walk in."

"And what circles are those?"  

There's a challenge there that Kuroro doesn't know if he should take or not, a fight that isn't exactly being picked but has every opportunity to bloom. He glances at the blond over his shoulder and cants his head, before deciding that he doesn't really have to bite.

"You were undercover in a mafia clan the last time I checked on you," he says mildly, his pace steady against the dry ground and voice unaffected.  "They're not known for being nice."

There's no reply, and he thinks maybe that's the end of it. He's aware of why Kurapika chose to align himself with the Nostrad family, how he uses them as a means to an end given the proclivities of the family's heir and how close this gets him to the information he needs. Kuroro personally thinks of it as self-destructive of the blond, but he's noticed that Kurapika cares less about himself than about his principles and his goals. Not everyone takes a challenge for the fun of it, Kuroro reminds himself, and it's admirable to care about something to the extent Kurapika does. It's an intensity to be wary of when paired with competence and the will to give up most everything else for it.

"Do you want to run?" he asks a moment later, rapidly bored of the trek ahead of them. He would like to prolong the trip, but he had spent a very long time walking in a similar environment before, after Kurapika had inflicted zetsu on him. Kuroro knows the mind-numbing monotony of it.

Kurapika starts, and eyes him. "Won't that catch attention?"

"Anything we do will catch attention. It matters very little." And Kuroro takes off at a run, just like that. He doesn't set a very fast pace, easy loping strides and his body at a comfortable bend in what might be called leisurely. Like this, they can reach his hideout in a little less than an hour. He looks to the side when Kurapika catches up with him and adjusts his pace to run just a little bit behind, notes the severity of Kurapika's frown.

"It's nice to stretch out after all that driving," he offers in good cheer, mood brightening with activity. He might have caught Kurapika rolling his eyes.

\------

Kuroro's hideout isn't really much of one, if he's honest with himself. It's a small cave hidden in the mess of rocks that is the canyon, partly destroyed by fights from long ago and partly eroded by nature over time. He had brought a vault over and wedged it inside, impossible to remove without destroying it or the cave it's nestled in and just out of sight of everyone but the most determined of onlookers. The only real security he had placed on it is the large scrawl of a twelve-legged spider on the door with his number on its back, a clear warning to any of the city's residents who might make it this far scrounging for curiosities.

He shows it to Kurapika, and is about to make a light-hearted comment of it when he stops at the expression on Kurapika's face. The boy has gone rigid, fists clenched on his sides, eyes blown wide as he stares at the crude metal box Kuroro had unceremoniously put his clan's eyes in. He watches, half curious and half wary, as Kurapika's eyes simmer scarlet and brown in turns, like a heartbeat the blond is trying to keep under control.

It's been a long journey, he reflects. Almost two months of having to put up with Kuroro and Kuroro's efforts at slowly chipping away at his preconceptions. He can't blame him for being overcome now.

"Kurapika," he says quietly, not moving. Kurapika moves his gaze from the vault to Kuroro, breath shivering from effort. He’s pale and drawn, and the stress of the past two months shows clearly on his face.

And then something snaps. Kurapika closes his eyes and they open brown; his shoulders droop, just a little. Kuroro lets out the breath he doesn't know he had been holding.

"How do we get them out?" he asks, voice low. Kuroro’s gaze on him lingers as he turns to the vault, before satisfying himself with the knowledge that Kurapika has calmed down sufficiently. He brings out the Skill Hunter in lieu of answering, flips to the page with Owl on it and brings out the Fun Fun Cloth.

"It’s not even locked," is Kurapika’s appalled comment a moment later, when Kuroro has taken the vault out, the ugly, grey thing popping out of the cloth he had shrunk it in. Kuroro shrugs lightly, pulling the door open to display seven pairs of eyes arranged neatly in thin canisters inside.

Kurapika goes down on his haunches to examine them, reverent in his handling of the canisters and expression guarded. Even if the contents of the vault cost Kuroro quite a large portion of his capital and a lot of time and effort, he had not placed much more value in them apart from as a means to entertain himself. Kuroro knows without a doubt from the way Kurapika handles the eyes that they are worth more to the blond than his own life.

"Here," he says, handing Kurapika a sizeable knapsack that should comfortably fit all seven without endangering them. Kurapika doesn’t thank him, even glares at his hand for a moment, but takes the bag and carefully lays the canisters in them without complaint.

This is it, Kuroro thinks, smile sitting blandly on his face. It’s time for them to go their separate ways. He sticks his hands in his pockets before he does something stupid, like offer Kurapika a handshake. It would be unfortunate to lose a body part so near the end of their journey together.

"There are provisions in the car," he adds, when Kurapika gets to his feet and hoists the knapsack over a shoulder. He hands Kurapika the key to their vehicle. "You can take it back to town. I’ll escort you to it so you don’t run into trouble from the residents, and then I might visit Ryuusegai and check on things."

Kurapika stares at the key, and then looks up at him. Even with his expression so shut off, Kuroro can see that Kurapika is a little overwhelmed.

He works up something to say to Kuroro as he waits patiently, and eventually manages to spit out, "Why?"

Kuroro had hoped that Kurapika wouldn’t ask, because it’s not a question he’s particularly keen on answering. "I don’t do things halfway?" he answers with a shrug, and it sounds like a question. Kuroro smiles, tries again. "It would be a pity if something happened to you after all this trouble. It’s the least I can do, and then you’re on your own."

It’s not an acceptable answer, from the way Kurapika’s eyes narrow, not the question that he wanted addressed. But it’s enough, because Kuroro doesn’t think Kurapika wants to be more specific, anyway, and the blond turns to walk back the way they came. Kuroro matches his pace and resigns himself to a long and monotonous walk back to the car.

"You have a place to hide these, right?" Kurapika glances at him and raises an eyebrow. Kuroro raises his hands in supplication. "I’m not asking where it is. But surely you don’t just up and bury them."

"Not yet," is the quiet answer. So Kurapika did plan on it. Kuroro nods, and resists divulging that he doesn’t remember where the Kuruta’s valley had been, had forgotten where it was because it’s not the sort of information he keeps long past its usefulness.

They don’t speak after that, because Kuroro finds himself oddly out of things to talk about and Kurapika is a walking manifestation of weariness and resolute tightness next to him.

Should he say something? He thinks about this, considers the situation, and by the time they see the car in the distance, Kuroro is nowhere near making up his mind on the issue. It seems, perhaps, that Kurapika isn’t the only one out of sorts about their joyride coming to an end.

They reach it just after sunset. They don’t exchange words, though Kurapika gives Kuroro a long, considering look before he gets in the car and starts it. Kuroro watches the vehicle long after it’s become a speck in the distance, and begins the trek to the smokestack of a city behind him.

\------

Kuroro really should have expected to be ambushed the moment he left Ryuusegai. In the first place, he should not have returned to the dock so soon when he knows that they are being hunted, even if he isn’t the main bounty. This self-reproach is what buzzes in Kuroro’s head as he falls onto his knees at the considerable weight suddenly pressed upon him, the pavement under his feet cracking and giving out as Kuroro fights to keep from being flattened to the ground. The worst position he can be in is prone on the floor.

There’s a wall of nen now visible around him, reflecting sunlight like glass but seemingly insubstantial at the same time. It's following the line of damage to the floor marking the cubic shape of the field. Kuroro ascertains that the nearest wall to him is less than two meters away, and pushes to reach it to mask his other plans. Better to let his enemies think he only wants to leave this box through brute force alone.

These walls had not sprung up on him, he concludes as his head starts buzzing from the pressure, or else he would have noticed and been able to dodge it – he had walked into its perimeter without sensing anything amiss with the space, and was trapped before the weight dropped on his shoulders. The ability needed to avoid his detection is too great for this to be the work of one person -- he’s up against two people at least, perhaps a third to run interference in the unlikely case of their ambush failing. Kuroro glances around as he adjusts his nen output to match the weight, eases the strain on his knees as a crater begins to form with him at its center.

This would have been easy for Ubo.

He is pulling out the Skill Hunter when the pressure suddenly disappears, aborting his task as he abruptly finds himself flying forward. He digs his fingers into the floor to slow himself down, tracking grooves on the ground where he’s forcibly dragged by his own momentum.

Not soon enough to prevent himself from crossing the nen wall that appears ahead of him, and off-balanced, he finds himself slammed down into the ground as another, heavier field falls onto him. Soon after, a small figure hurtles into his space, nimble and light on his feet, and begins the unpleasant task of pummeling him.

Kuroro frowns at this most unfair handicap, but he admires it at the same time. He can see that the man beating him up probably is not worth any notice outside of this box, but the field more than levels someone like Kuroro to what he can achieve. Kuroro feels metal slice past the thick defense of his aura as he pulls out the Skill Hunter again, digging deeply under his rib and puncturing something.

A Benz, he thinks with a detached sort of shock as he realizes the quick effects of poison. The kid can use  _ shu _ . That's pretty good.

He doesn’t have a lot of time. Already, Kuroro can feel his blood carve a searing, painful path from the point of entry and spread through his body, like acid in his veins. The pages of his book flip quickly, and in another second teleports the man out of the box. He next flips to a page of a woman, mildly regretting not having put more ink on his skin as two lines claw out of his shirt to lash at the wall trapping him. The surface cracks; brittle, Kuroro guesses, from the effort of maintaining the weight inside. Kuroro braces himself and gets to his knees, just as his attacker leaps back on him. Kuroro is just barely able to push himself to a half-hearted roll to avoid getting landed on, but is unable to avoid the potshot at his side. His ink strikes out at the kid and catches him on the arm. Vaguely, he observes that the ink doesn’t seem at all affected by the increase in gravity.

He feels like he's being immolated; blood rises up the back of his throat.

"This is entirely unfair," he voices out mildly, even as he feels his vision fading.

\------

Kuroro wakes up feeling like he had been smashed against all manner of unpleasant things.

The first thing he notes is that he’s completely alone in the room, though he can hear a garbled conversation beyond the door across from him. The second thing he notices is that he’s been left on the ground, neck manacled to the floor with a short length of chain; Kuroro tests it, but finds his nen locked out of his reach.

Again? Kuroro sighs, spits out residual blood, and cricks his neck gingerly with a wince.

His side is burning in pain. Blearily, he looks at it and shifts his shirt aside to find the gouge inflamed and purpling, though not bleeding anymore. Clearly, some form of antidote had been applied to him or else he would not be feeling this well, but he can feel the after-effects of the poison compounding his exhaustion.

A small cut might not have mattered, but he’s not a Zoldick and that had really been quite an unreasonable amount of metal under his skin. Lesser men would have died on the spot.

Now that he’s established that he’s alive and whole – sore and under zetsu, but nothing life-threatening yet – Kuroro turns his focus on his surroundings once more. He seems to be in a windowless cellar of some sort, the small space lit only by a flashlight hanging by a nail on the door. The ground under him is crude concrete, while the walls seem to be more of the same material. There is nothing else but him and his manacles.

The steel is thick and heavy on his throat, and the lock seems to have been soldered shut. The chain isn’t long enough to let him sit up, or kneel with any semblance of dignity, which means he can’t get room to properly work the chain free of the concrete. The only way to brace himself to yank at it would be to do it with his neck and push with his arms, which he feels is against wisdom given the rough, sharp edge of the steel biting at his neck.

_ These things wouldn’t even fit on other people _ , he thinks sourly, turning over to grasp the root of the chain and seeing if he can shake it loose from the concrete.

Then, what of the zetsu? Kuroro glances around and starts patting himself down to figure out how he’s being maintained in this manner. It can’t be the manacles, given what he had noticed of the earlier fight. What he does discover though, is that they’ve emptied his pockets, taken his shoes and belt, and impressively found all his hidden weapons.

Kuroro scratches at the wall curiously, but finds nothing amiss. The zetsu had blended in with the box of gravity earlier, but had not affected him. Is it the room? It must be a skill with strict conditions, given the effects and how he had to be knocked out before the nen-user had applied the zetsu directly on him.

He gives up, cushions his head on his arms, and decides to wait. He’ll have more information soon, both on the nen he’s dealing with and what he’s been targeted for.

Kuroro falls into light dozes on and off for about an hour before anyone comes into his cellar. He stills, and turns his head to look at the small, young man peering in through the door. It’s recognizably the young man from the box earlier. His arm is unscathed.

"Hey, we know you’re awake," the young man says accusingly, taking the flashlight from the wall, adjusting its settings to something brighter, and directing the light at him. Kuroro closes his eyes, and shrugs.

"I was under the impression that I don’t have anything particularly important to do right now, so I didn’t call," Kuroro replies lightly. His captor seems a jumpy, nervous sort, reed thin and anxious about having a captive at all. It’s such a far cry from all the bounty hunters he’s encountered in the years, Kuroro is almost taken aback.

"Well," the man says, shuffling in the small space he takes up by the door. "Well, that’s true, I guess. I guess." There’s silence as Kuroro patiently waits for him to say something else, but he coughs, backs off, and shuts the door behind him. There’s a muffled squawk when the kid -- he can only be a kid -- realizes that he had caught the hem of his jeans on the splintered bottom of the door.

Kuroro is in the middle of trying to make sense of the encounter when the door bursts open again, this time with a young girl, also dressed in a plain shirt and extremely loose pants. Kuroro can see the similarities in appearance, and assumes they are siblings. Like her brother, she does not leave the immediate vicinity of the door.

"Don’t bully him," she reproaches, and Kuroro blinks. "Or else we’ll leave you here to starve."

"I didn’t bully him," he replies patiently, rolling over on his side to get a better look at this girl. "You’re bounty hunters, right? Am I going to be exchanged soon?"

Her face sours, and Kuroro almost laughs at how put upon she looks. "No, you’re not the target at all, apparently. But we put up a notice for you, so I’m sure someone else will be interested in paying for your delivery."

Kuroro thinks about that for a moment. "That’s problematic, seeing as I’ve been on the record as dead for quite a while now. No one will be interested."

"Someone’s always interested," she shrugs, and seems to be satisfied with their conversation. She moves to leave Kuroro alone. This lack of interest in him indicates that they don't actually know who he specifically is; he wonders who their irresponsible employer is, to not give them proper information about Kurapika and his companion. He’d just had his bounty removed after threatening the bounty hunters in Palauwnia, so he is sure there’s no demand for him at the moment. 

"Are you looking for the blond kid with me?" he asks before she can close the door. The bounty hunter pauses and peers back in, looking suspicious.

"What about it? Are ya gonna sell him off to us?"

"Of course not." He didn’t spend so much time working on Kurapika and his loathing only to stab him so casually in the back.

"Did you want to be exchanged for him? Do you think he’ll buy you?"

Kuroro bursts out into chuckles, which he regrets when it pulls unpleasantly at the wounded flesh on his side. "He wouldn’t come for me, so that’s not a viable plan either." He knows she hadn’t said it in seriousness either, but the very idea was amusing in its impossibility.

Her eyes narrow and her nose wrinkles. "Then?"

"I can pay you for his bounty instead," Kuroro offers, although he knows the effort is futile. Most bounty hunters worth their salt tend to stick to their contracts if they can manage it, both for reputation and safety. It’s hard enough to have many enemies in the industry both in their targets and competition alike, without making foes of your own employers and inviting betrayal with precedent.

This brings her back to the door, propping it open and canting her head at him. "You and I both know I can’t take that offer. But I find it really curious how you’d rather ransom for him, but not for yourself."

He shrugs again, and again regrets it. "That never works, so I didn’t try. But trying to pay for someone else had a higher chance of being accepted, so I thought it was worth the effort."

"You’re a funny guy," she comments, and moves firmly to leave. This time, she delivers her parting shot just as the door closes. "But at least you’re not that troublesome."

\------

Kuroro is left alone for a while after that; he spends the hours ruminating on his two captors and possible escape, and turns to sleep when his physical discomfort becomes too distracting. He sleeps lightly, as usual, and wakes up some hours later before the door abruptly opens. It’s the both of them this time, armed with what Kuroro can see is a plastic box.

The young man flinches upon eye contact. The girl huffs, irate. "I’m going to treat you," she says as if this is the last thing she wants to do. "So you don’t die before we can trade you for something. If you attack me, Tenka’ll drop a building’s weight on you."

"I’m amenable to doing nothing," Kuroro replies agreeably, moving onto his back so his side is more accessible. Her words confirm that he is indeed in a box of the boy's making. The outline of it must be woven into the walls and floor. If nothing else is activated it may perhaps just be around him, but in his state of zetsu, Kuroro can’t tell until it visibly affects anything around him. "So your brother likes boxes?"

"Tenka is my son," she corrects Kuroro with disdain. "And yes, he does. Don’t bother him about it."

He couldn’t have, out of mild surprise at the information. Could it be that she’s an enhancer, then? Slowing down aging this drastically is typically an enhancer thing. She opens the box to reveal some basic medical aid, and more or less pours half the bottles of peroxide and iodine on his gash.

"I assumed that you’re the one keeping me under zetsu, but I might just revise that theory," he murmurs as she presses a bundle of gauze on his side, fastidiously mopping up the detritus from the laceration with a firm hand. She doesn’t respond to his fishing, only reaches for tape to seal the wound together. Kuroro is slightly relieved to not have to deal with stitches.

"Drink this," is what she says instead, and Kuroro recognizes the vial’s contents as a common antidote for lesser poisons. It will help him fight off the lingering effects of the Benz in his system, if barely.

"Thanks. I don’t suppose you’ll change your mind about me buying myself out of your hands?" he chides as he returns the vial. "I could even call a friend who can probably afford it. It’ll be a proper exchange."

She gives him another long, annoyed look before she gets to her feet and returns to her son’s side. "I’m not stupid. That sort of thing can backfire on us in so many ways."

"I suppose." Kuroro sighs, as if put out, and smiles up at them. "Can I at least know your name?"

There’s hesitation there, before it’s surpassed once again by her irritation. "Kaneccha. And this is my son Tenka. Now, be quiet, and we’ll come back later with your food."

\------

They come back almost every hour after that, first to give Kuroro food and water, and then for other errands in the cellar that sometimes involve him, and sometimes involve the rest of the room. It’s consistent, like clockwork, and Kaneccha always has an excuse to touch him every time. Kuroro’s not daft to not notice, even if he sometimes pretends to be asleep during their rounds. Tenka grows more and more nervous as the day moves on, and Kaneccha more and more annoyed.

It goes like this for several hours. Kuroro tries to make small talk, but is brusquely rebuffed every time. It reminds him of Kurapika, and the thought makes him chuckle. It makes Tenka fuss.

"Until when are you going to look for a buyer for me?" he asks after the sixth visit. "Surely your time is better spent hunting down the kid with me?"

"We have time," Kaneccha says, redoing Kuroro’s bandages with the same fastidiousness as earlier.

"You don’t know where he went off to."

That earns him a glare, and a deliberate jab at his wound. Kuroro winces and holds his hands up as an apology for the provocation. But he’s correct, which, inexplicably, relieves him. The other possibility is that they simply can’t hold more than one person at a time between them, but this he keeps to himself.

After a while of cleaning his side, though, she eventually speaks up. Kuroro guesses that they’re desperate for a clue, and there’s nothing to lose by asking him. It’s not entirely true, of course. "You’re the only one that came back to the port."

"Ah, we separated after. He took the car, as you can see, so who knows where he is by now." It would be better to pick up Kurapika’s tracks as fast as they can if they want to any semblance of a chance of catching up to the blond, but Kuroro surmises that tracking someone down isn’t part of Kaneccha and Tenka’s skillset. Kuroro guesses that Kurapika had probably driven to the other port, Kuroro’s own initial choice of docking to walk to Ryuusegai. It would make sense if his goal is to throw pursuers away.

He mulls on this a moment too long, and her eyes narrow.

"You know where he went, don’t you?"

"I have an idea," Kuroro replies agreeably, and very pointedly doesn’t offer anything more. Not even the prospect of negotiation. Kanecchi frowns, but willingly backs off, returning to Tenka’s side again.

Tenka is the one keeping him bound, that putting the boy in danger will go a long way to escaping this prison. In all of their interactions, Tenka had not stepped into the room past the door. Kuroro smiles at the both of them as they leave, and plans.

\------

It’s about half an hour after a visit that Kuroro finds himself in sudden pain, his chest stinging as a red line races across his skin. Bruises bloom on his side and face. He presses himself against the wall, perplexed, and watches as a welt in the distinct mark of a length of chain rises on his arm.

This goes on for a moment longer. A rib fractures; he registers it in his head with some curiosity as he fights to keep his consciousness.

It must be Kurapika come to get him. It’s an impossible idea. No matter how much Kuroro’s softened the wall Kurapika has against him these past months, it’s still too much to ask for aid willingly given. But Kuroro knows no one else who wields a chain as a weapon with such deadly precision.

And just as suddenly, he feels the invisible box around him fall apart and his nen return. The world returns to clarity as he regains his ten, pain blocked out with the ease of practice, and Kuroro leaps into action. The chain is easy enough to remove with nen-amplified force, and Kuroro is bolting out the door and up a short flight of stairs in an instant.

There’s a fight going some distance from the hovel he emerges from, and he recognizes the nen signature as that of Kurapika’s and Tenka’s. Kaneccha must also be there – Kuroro can hear her screaming incoherently – and he swiftly makes his way to the skirmish, bare feet and all.

The first thing he notes when he explodes into the fight with all speed is that Kurapika is in a box, held down by the invisible weight that Kuroro knows too well, his chains furiously ricocheting against the walls of his cage with frightening speed. The second is that while Tenka is anxiously trying to keep the box up, he is once again completely unscathed. His mother is at his side, urging Tenka to leave immediately, because Kuroro is coming.

"Tenka!" Kaneccha cries out as Kuroro reaches them and lands a sharp kick to throw the boy off his feet.

Tenka flies back some meters. An imprint appears on Kaneccha’s arm. Pain travels up Kuroro’s own arm, and Tenka is back on his feet.

"Oh," he says with interest at that, turning to Kaneccha. "You’re a conduit."

He goes for her, then, and Tenka intercepts him. Kuroro drops him with a low sweep under his legs, taking care not to hit him too hard because Kuroro has really had enough of self-inflicted injuries at this point. Kuroro gets to Kaneccha’s side in a blink and slams his fist into her solar plexus in an experimental blow. He’s fully prepared for pain, but nothing comes; instead, she staggers and leaps back to put distance between them.

Her defiant attitude is still there, but Kuroro notes the strain of pain and panic in her face. Kuroro eyes them as he carefully knocks at the wall keeping Kurapika; it’s solid under the force, but he notes that the weight in the box doesn't seem to be has heavy as he remembers it from his own entrapment.

"Don’t hit me by accident," he tells Kurapika before he manifests the Skill Hunter and promptly teleports Kurapika out of the box. Kurapika reappears crouched a short distance away, chains rustling around him like angry snakes. The blond gives Kuroro a long look of assessment; Kuroro shrugs slightly when Kurapika’s eyes narrow in recognition of the injuries.

"I think she can only transfer them to me for now," he says mildly, turning back to Tenka and Kaneccha. The boy has dispersed his initial box and put up a new one around the two of them. He looks determined to keep it up no matter what. "And she can’t return them to me, when I’m the one who injures her. Did you hit her?"

There’s a nod. Kuroro hums, reassessing her ability according to the new information. "Then perhaps her limitation is that she can’t throw it back directly from herself, if the recipient is the one who gave it to her. Activation of her victim is through touch, and my guess is that the time limit is an hour. It’s been half an hour since she last tended to me."

Tenka’s skill is more straightforward. Clearly the boy can only put up a box at a time, and when he decides on a property for it, the degree of effectiveness of each feature of the box is limited by his nen. Kuroro cants his head at them, contemplating if he wants to steal their skill, and how to go about doing it.

Kaneccha brings out a knife and rests the point over her heart. Kuroro feels the prick on his skin, and his eyebrows rise. So death is something she can transfer. Interesting. She had probably been hoping for Kuroro to die from Kurapika’s inflicted injuries on both her and Tenka so she could focus on the blond, but hadn’t accounted for Kurapika’s reluctance to apply unnecessary lethal force. And, from the looks of it, the impulsiveness of her son in letting Kuroro out.

"I’m sure we can talk about this," he offers pleasantly. "Right now, you have me hostage. But if I die, you won’t have anyone to inflict your injuries on except Tenka; my companion will make very quick work of you. It’ll be embarrassing, considering that he was your original target," Kuroro adds, just to make sure Kurapika understands what these bounty hunters are after. From the corner of his eyes, he can see the slight tension in Kurapika’s shoulder at his words.

"You’ve won, so we just want to leave now," Kaneccha says, though she sounds unconvinced of her own words. In this business, mercy is not something to be given easily and they both know it.

"Who hired you?" Kurapika asks, speaking for the first time since Kuroro got there. He glances at the blond, but doesn’t intervene.

"One of the ten dons. The rest of them took down the bounty for you after word got around that you’re involved with someone dangerous."

"One," Kuroro echoes with interest. That's a good number. "What did he say when you offered me to him?"

At this, Kaneccha makes a face of disgust. Tenka winces. "He said to kill you, but wouldn’t pay for it. So I tried to put you up for bounty elsewhere."

Fortunate for him, Kuroro thinks, wrinkling his nose at the prospect of dying in that cellar.

"This is what we’ll do." Kuroro holds up a hand, but doesn’t release the Skill Hunter. "We’re going to stand here until the half an hour is up, and then we’re going to leave you in your box and walk away. That seems to be the easiest way to break this stalemate, considering."

"You can throw either of us out of his box any time," Tenka accuses, and Kuroro can see his hand fist on the back of Kaneccha’s shirt.

"At the risk of getting stabbed in the heart? I don’t think—"

Kuroro is interrupted when Kaneccha is yanked forward by chains that appear suddenly around her, slamming her face first into the wall as the box stops her from exiting it. Kuroro reacts just fast enough to teleport the knife away before she can plunge it into her breast from the impact. His nose starts bleeding profusely just as hers stops.

"Ow," he comments plaintively, and just to make sure they have the upper hand, throws Tenka out the box as well. He counts on the boy’s priorities and is not disappointed. Instead of trying to regain his advantage, Tenka activates zetsu on the box to diffuse Kurapika’s chains, his mother falling through the wall soon after. This has the pleasant side effect of also putting Kaneccha into zetsu, however.

Kuroro flicks the pages of his Skill Hunter, and in no time at all has Kaneccha in a small bundle of the Fun Fun Cloth in his palm.

"Now that we have a more reasonable person to negotiate with, shall we?"

\------

In the end, Kuroro takes Tenka’s skill into his book, and then they let Kaneccha go. She seems extremely angry at him, but ultimately relieved to learn that they’re being allowed to walk away and why. She’ll need to keep Tenka alive if Kuroro wants to keep on using the boy’s skill, after all.

"Thanks for showing up," he tells Kurapika after the bounty hunters leave.

Kurapika gives him a stormy, cranky look. "Leorio called me saying that he saw your photograph being advertised in the darknet. Something about delivery services, prices negotiable."

"They were willing to haggle down for me?" Kuroro says, offended. The look turns judgmental and disgusted, and Kuroro laughs. "I'm curious why you thought about rescuing me, though."

Kurapika stiffens then, looking uncomfortable. But he scowls and begins walking, not looking back at Kuroro as he strides for what Kuroro assumes is the direction of the port.

"Kurapika?"

"I wasn't going to let you get killed by the bounty hunters after me," Kurapika snaps. "Even if you deserve it for being caught by two kids. Don't look so satisfied with yourself. I'm leaving."

It's hard not to grin at the grudging admittance, to have the evidence of two months of hard work manifest in deliberate action. Even if Kurapika had always been something of a soft touch, he would not have balked at allowing someone else to kill people whom he perceived as a menace to society. Kuroro jogs to catch up with the blond, stumbling a little when the pain in his side catches. He had pulled it open during the short fight, though it still doesn't hurt as much as when he had woken up. "Wait up."

Kurapika eyes the bloody patch on his side, and looks up at him. "Did you get stabbed?"

"With a Benz, yes. They gave me the antidote for that, though. The rest is transferred injuries."

Kurapika sighs, then, looking particularly aggrieved, and stops walking. Kuroro pauses as well, looking at his companion expectantly.

"This is the last time, Lucifer." A chain snakes around Kuroro's waist, warm over his skin. It's a kind skill, he thinks vaguely, no matter how Kurapika seems reluctant to use it on him or the visual of its manifestation. The blond doesn't seem to be interested in healing all of his injuries, but the stab wound knits itself under the healing, and he feels his rib mend to a moderate ache.

"Thank you," Kuroro says after, smiling beatifically at his long-suffering companion. "But I doubt if it'll be the last time we'll work together. Neither of us plan on dying anytime soon, and the world of professional nen-users is very small."

Kurapika doesn't reply to that, looks like he might even be regretfully agreeing to it. "Where are you going?" is what he asks instead when Kuroro turns away to head back up the way they came.

"I have to pick up my shoes, and I may or may not have a few things to clean up before we consider this entire debacle closed."

"You're going after the don."

Kuroro grins, shrugs a shoulder. "I'm pleased that you know me so well now."

Kurapika makes a small sound of disbelief, but doesn't protest his plan of action. He also, as expected, doesn't join Kuroro. They already made their farewells a week ago, so Kuroro doesn't make a repeat of it, and when he looks back to the road, Kurapika is gone.

\------

It takes Kuroro two days to return to Yorkshin. The rapidity of the trip amuses him, after spending such a long time crawling from one end of the map to the other. One of the two requests he had sent to Shalnark at the beginning of his trip returns to him just in time, giving Kuroro the identity and location of his prey.

Kuroro contemplates doing things the flashy way, but his status as a dead man is too useful for him to let go so casually, and for such a pitiful errand. Instead, he checks into the hotel where the don resides, waits for dawn, and sneaks in to collect the man's head. The rest of the body is devoured by Kuroro's indoor fish.

He leaves the head in a box of salt, in a conference pent house where the dons are scheduled to meet for lunch. It's hidden behind a mantelpiece with an alarm clock attached to it, so they can't miss it.

He also makes sure to carve the don's eyes out to make his point.

His work done, Kuroro then decides to stay in Yorkshin a while, mostly because he still has remnants of his injuries that need to fully recover, and he has some assets he wants to check on. It's tempting to seek Kurapika out immediately, to contact him and tell him the news, but Kuroro knows how much he's tested the limit of Kurapika's patience in the past months. Besides, there is no reason to do so when the blond can find out himself from his own mafia contacts.

Kuroro puts the issue out of his mind and works his way around his different accounts in the city.

\------

Two days later, he receives a text from an unknown number.

 

_**They've called off all bounty on me.** _

 

**that's good. you're welcome.**

 

_**What did you do?** _

 

**i pickled a don and left it for the others to see**

 

_**That's disgusting.** _

 

Kuroro contemplates on his next reply, putting aside his book to stare at the screen for some moments. He's thought about this for the better part of two weeks, but had never really acted on his whim out of a sense of self-preservation. Now that he has the opportunity, Kuroro is finding it difficult to resist.

It's so rare for him to be so interested in another person so intently, he almost doesn't know what to do with himself. Usually people are just passing curiosities for him, not something that occupies his mind for such long stretches of time. Human beings are fascinating as a whole, but on a individual level Kuroro has always found the majority of them quite banal; Kurapika had begun that way, obsessed with revenge and plotting against forces stronger than he was. That he had stringently and valiantly been able to maintain his morality in the face of losing all he had struggled to achieve is a display of both weakness and will that had impressed Kuroro for its extremeness. 

It’s quite something else, to be capable of making such difficult decisions under such pressure, and repeatedly. 

In the end, he punches in the keys with little flourish and sends his message.

 

**do you want to go out for coffee?**

 

The reply doesn't come for a moment. Kuroro resolutely resumes reading, and gets through a dozen pages leisurely before another notification arrives.

 

_**We're not friends, Lucifer.** _

 

**doesn't mean we can't spend time together and talk about interesting things.**

 

_**Just because I've come to accept that you exist in this world doesn't mean I forgive you for your crimes against my clan.** _

 

Well, that's fair. Kuroro looks up at the ceiling. Is it too much to ask? He supposes that it is. Kuroro isn't so alien to the idea of propriety and human values as people normally make him out to be; while far from normal, Kuroro is still exposed to the rest of humanity, after all, enough to know how regular society perceives morality. He had inflicted misery on Kurapika in the past, and gifting him with some pairs of eyes out of boredom doesn't mean everything will be all right from the Kuruta's perspective -- far from it, in fact, but the journey had been the step in the right direction no matter how unplanned these new developments are. 

He looks down again when his phone beeps.

 

_**And spending more time together means you carrying on a one-sided conversation. Aren't you tired of that?** _

 

**i kind of miss it, actually. you're good company.**

 

Kurapika doesn't reply after. Kuroro wonders if he was too honest, but pushes the issue aside for now.

\------

Three days later, Kuroro receives a text from Shalnark. He gets up from the window he had been reading another book by, and makes himself presentable. It's not much, just civilian clothing after a shower, and a perfunctory comb through his hair. He wants to appear normal, not trying too hard to impress, after all.

And then he makes his way to the hotel the Nostrads are staying in this time, sneaks into their floor, and knocks on Kurapika's door.

To the blond's credit, he doesn't seem at all alarmed to see him there. He only stares at him with a mixture of annoyance and resignation, and waits for Kuroro to explain himself.

It's unnecessary, but Kuroro is too delighted to be even heard that he plays along. He holds up the two cups of coffee he had bought from a coffee shop nearby, smiling.

"I realized you might be too busy to come out for coffee, so I brought it over."

"You didn't kill any of my men on your way up here, did you?" Kurapika asks flatly, not budging from the door. There's no hostility there, which encourages him.

"You know the answer to that," he chides, and waits expectantly. Kurapika's eyebrow twitches, but opens the door wider to let him in. Kuroro's smile grows, and he follows after the blond into the room. He closes the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be linking the art of the artists paired with me here as they are posted! ... Once I figure out how to do links here. 
> 
> [Are you going to heal me?](https://chidayu.tumblr.com/post/144680220531/are-you-going-to-heal-me-the-answer-is) by [Chidayu](https://chidayu.tumblr.com). That amazing palette and the details in the scene incorporated in there is always so amazing to me.
> 
> [This colorful piece](http://corbeaucreations.tumblr.com/post/145324666162/for-grumpypotatos-fic-i-really-enjoyed-the) by [Corbeau](http://corbeaucreations.tumblr.com/). Kurapika's expression, hahahaha.
> 
> [This cho adorable chibi](https://chidayu.tumblr.com/post/145426172176/for-hxhbb-social-experiment-by-grumpypotato) by [Chidayu](https://chidayu.tumblr.com). I have a great appreciation for Kurapika's suffering and Kuroro's delight!


End file.
